


day thirteen

by julek



Series: Winterfest 2020 [13]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Rosy Cheeks, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28080600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julek/pseuds/julek
Summary: Geralt's in love — too bad his bard doesn't feel the same.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Winterfest 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041318
Comments: 6
Kudos: 209





	day thirteen

The thing is, Jaskier’s a tactile person.

He touches Geralt’s elbow when they pass through a particularly crowded market, he presses his knuckles to Geralt’s cheek when they pull away from their yearly reunion hug, his hair soft and eyes glinting with mirth. He swats playfully at his side when he cracks a joke, insists on washing his hair when he walks into their room covered in blood and gore, and never flinches. He gently presses his head against Geralt’s shoulderblades when they have to share a bed in a small inn, drapes an arm around his stomach. 

One night, when they’re sitting by the fire and Geralt’s just come back from hunting a couple of rabbits for their dinner, Jaskier surges up and kisses him soundly on the mouth. Geralt stills for a second before melting into the kiss, pressing a hand to Jaskier’s nape. When they pull apart, Jaskier’s kiss-swollen lips are red and curling around a giddy smile, his scent dripping with honeyed sweetness and joy. 

And he knows Jaskier likes touching, he’s seen it — strangers and friends and potential lovers, all recipients of Jaskier’s soft glances and wandering hands. It’s who he is. So when Jaskier presses his impossibly soft lips against Geralt’s, he takes it as yet another token of his affection, as if he’s unknowingly unlocked another level of closeness to the bard. He’s touched, that Jaskier feels comfortable enough around him to share such a warm gesture with him. 

But he also knows it doesn’t mean much to the bard — it’s just a kiss, nothing of out of the ordinary for Jaskier’s lifestyle, who could sweep just about anyone off their feet. And these simple touches break Geralt’s heart, even if he won’t admit it; he longs for that closeness, for the intimacy, but knows his intentions are misguided, that Jaskier sees him as nothing but a friend. 

So he pines. He still wraps his arms around the bard’s shoulders when he’s shivering beside him, still lets their legs tangle under the blankets at a shitty inn in a backwater village, still presses into Jaskier’s kisses, but it’s all with an undertone of sadness, his heart heavy with yearning. He still feels Jaskier’s scent on his clothes after they part, sweet and soft like it’d been that night they first kissed, and oh, how he wishes he could kiss him and hold him and adore him like he’s meant to, without his heart bursting through his chest with love and worship — because Jaskier would never want that, and Geralt would never impose. So he pines.

Their last night together, well into autumn, before Geralt heads north and Jaskier moves south, Geralt’s melancholy seeps through.

“What is it?” Jaskier asks gently, taking the Witcher’s face in his hands.

Geralt sighs. “It’s nothing.”

“You can talk to me, love.” Geralt’s heart breaks a little more at that. “Whatever it is.”

Geralt stands, abruptly, pacing their small room. “It’ll be good for you, going to Oxenfurt,” he says, and Jaskier frowns at the change of subject.

“Um, yeah, I’ll see all my friends again, though I’m not so keen on departing from your side, dear heart. I wish I could stay with you.”

Geralt grimaces. “Why? You’ll have more time to find new lovers, now that you won’t be jumping from town to town with me.”

Jaskier’s frown deepens. “What is _that_ supposed to mean? Why on _Earth_ would I find someone new? Geralt, if this is your way of breaking up with me, I’m—”

“Breaking up with you?” Geralt’s heartache melts into confusion. 

“I mean, it’s either that or you’re very weirdly breaching the topic of open relationships—”

Geralt’s head spins. Relationship? He thought Jaskier’d be happy now that he could spend the winter in Oxenfurt, among old friends and new flames, which he’d probably been itching for, and Geralt realizes he hadn’t seen the bard spend the night with anyone in a long time. 

“Oh,” he says, interrupting Jaskier’s rant. “Oh, we’re— I thought—”

“What?” Jaskier’s scent smells sour, tainted with sadness, and Geralt can’t have that.

“I didn’t know you wanted me like that,” he says, lamely.

“Didn’t know— _Geralt_ , I’ve sung your praises for years, I’ve bathed and stitched you up more times than I can count, how could you not kn— we’ve kissed!”

“I thought you were just being nice,” Geralt says, his voice small.

Jaskier huffs a laugh. “ _Gods,_ of course I’d go and get myself the most clueless Witcher available on this entire Continent.” He moves closer to Geralt, and he’s suppressing a smile. “I love you, Geralt. Always have. And I want to be with you, I thought— I thought you knew that.”

“I love you too,” Geralt whispers, his eyes closed and his cheeks flushed a deep pink. Jaskier moves closer still, and presses their foreheads together. He’s relieved, and he’s got so much time to make up for, he wants to start right now. “Come to Kaer Morhen with me.”

Jaskier’s eyes crinkle at the corners, his smile too big but perfect on his face. “I’d love to.”

And with that, he presses a kiss to Geralt’s mouth, slow and soft, and Geralt knows it’s just for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow this series on [tumblr](http://julek.tumblr.com/tagged/winter%20prompts)!


End file.
